Helpless
by Blackmoondragon1415
Summary: "Until then, he was helpless. There was next to nothing he could do." A two-part oneshot involving Draco's thoughts on the heart shared between him and Einion. R&R, please!


Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonheart in any way, shape, or form. All ideas, characters and dialogue belong to the original makers.

Well, just kind of pushing though the stuff on my 'to-do list'. We'll see what I manage to finish next.

* * *

Helpless:

"But it was not your fault but mine/ And it was your heart on the line/I really f***ed it up this time/ Didn't I my dear" Little Lion Man-Mumford and Sons

Freyne's _son_…. He knew it would have been beyond his help to invoke a change in that line. The lad's father had crippled his hand, after all, and old wounds were slow to heal. Still, what was done was done, and he was now feeling every iota of the repercussions. Pains had racked his half-heart, growing steadily more agonizing, as though a warning of what was to come, before exploding in a torrent of throbbing, nearly sending the copper dragon to the ground. He knew, even as his mind instinctively slipped down the link to his other half to see just _what that insane whelp was doing_, that something was truly wrong. The vow the boy had made, or more rather _attempted_ to make, had been broken. The prince, being human, could feel none of the pangs that ran through their heart.

The sight that greeted him as he opened himself fully to the other half both horrified and saddened the dragon beyond belief. A man, one eye burned and bleeding, the other widened in woe and fright as he thrashed in an effort to save what was left of his sight. And that was not all there was to see/feel/experience. Through the boy's mind ran a series of images. His castle, built on the backs of his subjects, the torment he would reign down on anyone that interfered with his image. Bloody, merciless, and terrible images that ran through the boy's mind, thicker than the red that was dashed across them, like a thick molasses, making them stick in the link. Pulling back, with more than a little trepidation [_He did __**not**__ want to see anymore._], the dragon closed himself off from the other half, his maimed paw coming to rest on the fresh scar as though that would stem the frantic beating beneath the scales. Stopping, he noted the middle talon with a shimmer of black humor.

The boy truly was his father's son. He may not have known Freyne as well as some, but he could honestly say the father would be proud if he could see Einion now. The only thing that set the two apart was that the boy was not a dragonslayer [yet, the more worried side of his mind protested]. The missing talon seemed to mock the already distraught dragon, and an idea occurred, born out of the tense jolts of pain and the knowledge of the heart.

If he could not force the prince to stop physically, he could at least hinder what he was doing, and planning. A small form of rebellion.

Pounding the maimed paw into the wall with angry vigor, something to distract him from the agonies of the half-heart, or perhaps to somehow punish the prince on the other side of the bond.

However, he shoved away that thought, the vision of a man writhing as his eye was burned in his skull still strong. He would not be that type of person, the kind that relished in the agony of others. Still, he could not stop the motion, the pounding that was slowing tearing at the scales, the red glow starting to build in power, along with the pain that came with it.

He had started a slow bloodbath, and couldn't do a thing about it. The very thought both nauseated and frightened him beyond belief. It made the bout of masochism suddenly take a more frantic turn, as though the pain would blot out the idea. But it stuck, whipping it's way into his half-heart with every betrayal-pained beat.

His one attempt, the only one of this caliber that he could make, was spent, and it only served to spiral everything down further into the clutches of a tyrannical hold.

And, given his position, there wasn't all that much that could be done. If he flew out to try to remind the boy-king of his vow, he would die by lance, or sword. And, despite the wretchedness of the situation, the dragon could easily say he had no interest in dying, though if that would be what it took to end this mess…

…No, there would be others to pick up the slack. Other men twisted by greed and malevolence that would lord over others like master and slave. His death would merely remove one. And what would come after would be enough to make any being shake in fear. Soulless void. Oblivion. All the names the world had could not encompass that horror.

It was not something the dragon wanted to experience.

While he had let loose this devil, he would have to suffer through it. At least until there was a hint of the lighter type of heart in the minds of man. Then he could let go.

The pounding had slowed, the mangled paw automatically cradled as it pulsed with a shining red glow. But he didn't even feel the twinges as the radiance disappeared, the broken and mangled scales still held gingerly to his chest.

He would wait, listen, and then decide when to act. And what would happen would happen.

Until then, he was helpless. There was next to nothing he could do.

* * *

Nearly twelve years later, the copper dragon could honestly say he was not expecting things to go this way. From what had happened nary a year later, things had steadily spiraled out of control, resulting in another session with the wall. This time, the reason for the outburst had felt much more personal.

Right after the bestowment of his 'gift', others of his kind had been dying with alarming vigor. Someone had been busy, or perhaps the art of dragonslaying had flourished under Einion's reign. Either way, it had sown a very busy seed of paranoia into the dragon's mind; his idea of waiting for a brighter time was suddenly much more difficult. Hiding had carried him through the twelve years, but others had not been so lucky. He felt it through the bonds he and his brethren shared; their lights slowly going out one by one, until he was the last. It had been a truly dark day, which was probably what led him to take, for him, an uncharacteristic risk. He had fallen asleep, camouflaged, on the bank of the river at which he had taken refuge. And while no dragonslayers had come to claim his head in a fortnight, it did seem appropriate that the onetime this happened, one of the fold showed up on his doorstep. Bowen. A Knight of the Old Code, though more by insignia than belief.

They held a surprising amount in common, although the knight didn't know most of the criteria. They had both been betrayed, they were both simply trying to get by in a world that had discarded their kind, and they were both probably two people that could turn the tide of this kingdom.

Other things had come up. The scheme he had devised for him and Bowen, for one. While he had used the pretense of honesty to perhaps rouse the knight within the dragonslayer, something that Bowen had done had totally thrown him for a loop.

He had given him a name. Not the somewhat generic address of 'Dragon', but an actual name. Draco. He had been even more surprised, and a little humbled, to know that the word was also the name for a certain cluster of stars, one that had been prominent to him from the very start of his life. The Dragon's Heaven. It almost did seem like an omen, a very good one.

Still, while his purpose had still been at the forefront of his mind, it was brought back into alarming clarity when Kara had come into the picture. Bowen was probably right in saying that it would have been better to simply drop the girl off and make his way back to the village, but Draco's conscience said otherwise. Despite the fact that he knew it was probably a bad idea, he had stayed, made sure she was not in danger of injury, and had even managed to do something he hadn't done in years.

In retrospect, he was sure the trilling was what had made Bowen convinced that he had done this all on purpose.

"You should've eaten her." The knight chided, moving past Kara as she tried to brandish her knife. Well, he supposed he did deserve that. Albeit, his pride would not go down without a fight. Consequences or not, that was _fun_.

"Now, Bowen…"

"Bad enough you forgot me, but what about yourself? You were so smitten with this baggage-."

"I beg your pardon!" Kara interjected, only to be blindsided by a glare from the irate knight. Draco internally suppressed a wince as the very same irritation was turned back to him.

"So smitten that your alarm senses didn't even hear me ride up. If I was the hunting party whose tracks I saw back on the trail, you'd probably be extinct by now."

That was news. There was a hunting party? By now Draco's own stubborn sense of paranoia was starting to berate him too. Although, from the sheer volume of confusion written all over Kara's face, they would have a lot of explaining to do once Bowen's temper ran out of steam.

"Now, Bowen, don't be angry…"

"Why not? I was worried to death-."

"Worried? Over me?" That made him feel both guilty and touched. He wasn't sure entirely which was more prominent, and didn't really have time to puzzle out the matter.

For nary a second later, while Bowen had waded into the stream, he had heard something they could not. The sounds of horses. Hunting party, or something worse; Either way, Draco was sure that spotting a dragon among a knight and lady would not end well for all involved. Winging his way over to the falls, he stayed behind the cascade of water, peeking his head out long enough to warn Bowen of the danger.

"Horses. Someone's coming."

The sudden increased thrum of the half-heart told him who exactly had come to call; Einion. Trying to work his hearing around the sound of the waterfall, Draco tried to pick out what was being said. Bowen and Einion had not parted on friendly terms; a fight was inevitable.

It was too soon. Bowen would not be able to beat Einion, his continued existence was proof of that. The painful throbbing that he had grown so accustomed to over the last twelve years had grown, his maimed claw coming up to press over the scar as though that would somehow lessen the sting. Somehow, through the dual distraction, a solitary sentence pierced the noise.

"They were _your _beliefs!"

It was Bowen's voice, sounding angry, cornered. It had reminded him of the night the man had given him his name, they had been 'discussing' [shouting at one another] Einion. More namely, the heart. That tone, defensive and trapped, was just like it had been then. And, given the increased pounding that wracked his own half-heart, he knew the king was taking advantage of it. And enjoying every moment of it. The words were warped through the spray of the waterfall, but Draco could feel the blood-soaked thoughts starting to bubble to the surface in the king's mind.

He was going to kill the knight.

Something inside Draco snapped, right as the pounding reached a crescendo. Bursting from the waterfall, sending a spray over the group, he landed right between Bowen and Einion, staring down the king with a feeling of empowerment, even through the somewhat frantic pounding of the heart shared between them.

He was not helpless. He could confront Einion. Perhaps take back what should not have been given.

The moment was broken when the king screamed, breaking for his horse, and climbing on. He spared the dragon one last look, shivering as the repercussion reached him through the heart before riding away. Draco too shook, claw resting over the scar as though that would stem the frantic beating.

"Draco!" Bowen called, coming through the water towards him. "Did he wound you? Let me see!"

The dragon moved away from the knight's prying hands, slightly irritated by the sudden spurt of attention. He was the one he had been concerned about, after all.

"He didn't touch me!" Then, mollified at the look of surprise from both, he softened his voice. "It's just the old complaint again. Look to your own wound, knight."

"A poke in the shoulder, that's all." Bowen dismissed the injury, but the dragon was not satisfied.

"That is not the wound I meant."

The silence hung heavily between the two, only broken when Kara suddenly spoke up.

"Excuse me. Just how is it you two now each other?"

_Oh dear…_ Draco thought, internally grimacing.

* * *

And then the gates of hell are thrown wide...

Just kidding. No demons were released in the making of this fic. But, if anyone's at least watched the movie, we all kind of know what comes next.

Hope you enjoyed, and please leave a review at the door before you go!


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